Revelations
by Zena-Xina
Summary: "Are you Dr. Spencer Reid on the BAU team of the FBI?" is what I awoke to. The cold hollow feel of metal on the back of my head told me what to say. (Based loosely on 2x15 "Revelations")
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Whelp, here we are again. I'm typing up a story I wrote forever ago while simultaneously working on like three other stories in other fandoms.**_

_**Anyway, here it is December 2014, and according to the paper, I wrote this in June 2011, but I think I started it in May of that year because I remember writing it in the last few weeks of school.**_

_**This was my official first fanfiction I ever wrote. I was in the wee seventh grade then, and now I'm halfway through my junior year.**_

_**So... anyway, please read and review.**_

_**I'll probably update more often for this story, being as it is already written (all 38 pages) but just needs to be typed.**_

_**This started out as a spin on 2x15 "Revelations" but I think it kind of took on it's own thing after a while.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

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><p>"Are you Dr. Spencer Reid on the BAU team of the FBI?" is what I awoke to. The cold hollow feel of metal on the back of my head told me what to say.<p>

"Yes," I answer. I'm not sure why I have been taken hostage, but I always knew that working with the FBI had its risks.

I would have probably been able to calculate where I was taken if I hadn't been drugged.

I decided not to panic right now, and just to wait it out. I figured I would get a chance to some how get out or signal someone later.

It's only been an hour or so since I woke up, and although the window is behind me, and it is small, I've decided it's about 8 AM. Which, when you think about it, makes sense.

I know it was dark when I was taken. Most drugs like what I was probably given work for only about 2-3 hours, and I see 3 small pricks on my arm. Which would mean I was taken around 1 or 2 AM.

Hopefully if someone hand't noticed I'm gone now, they will within the hour.

I've decided to try and figure out why I may have been abducted. My head is still a little fuzzy, but I think it's clear enough to work it out.

Let's see. Our team has been working on a case of people getting murdered and then dumped along a highway. The only connection to them was that they all had been killed with a slow nasty slit to the throat.

This case has been particularly interesting for one, these murders have all taken place in Las Vegas, my hometown. Which is where we are now, or at least where I hope I still am.

My head's more clear now. I have just realized that I wasn't asleep when I was captured. The sore spot on my head confirms it. I remember it all.

We had just gotten some information and were going to check it out. Morgan and I were already headed for somewhere near. So when we were instructed to meet up at the UnSub's house, we were the first one's there. Knowing everyone else was practically right behind us, we decided to check out the perimeter. Morgan to the left, me to the right.

Well, apparently whoever was in the house was going out the side the same time I was. And I'm glad I had on my bulletproof vest. First, a shot to my chest. Luckily, it just knocked me off my feet.

I could hear Morgan yelling to me, and running. Unfortunately, he didn't get to me before my captor knocked me out with something flat and metal. Most likely a shovel.

That was when I was waken up by that cold, cruel voice. I'm glad I've got my bearings straight now. Well, besides the fact that I still don't know where I am.

"I see your awake?" said that voice again. I see that someone has come inside.

Wait, when did he leave? I didn't he just wake me up?

"Where am I?" I ask, even though I know I won't get an answer.

"You didn't answer my questions!" the voice responded.

You made a statement, not a question. This guy is crazy!

"Yes... Yes, I'm awake." I manage to stay calm a bit. It's hard for one to stay calm though when you have been taken hostage by the person who tortured and killed five people. Especially when you don't know what that person might do to you...

"Good. Now you can help me. I need-"

"Help you?! With what? You have me tied up and stripped of all my things but my clothes. Well, then again I don't blame you. Why would you tie up an FBI agent with his gun and-" I say, it all coming out at once. I'm usually very good at controlling myself. Why can't I now?

"You interrupted me."

"What?"

"You interrupted me! Interrupting me is ruse. Rude people make me mad." he said, very angry now.

"But, I didn't mean to! I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me! I was taught to be respectful and never be rude as a young child. I am usually very good! Please!" I say, starting to panic.

"Oh shut up! You will pay for what you have done!" he says as he rips me out of the chair I'm on, and onto the floor, pushing down on my back, making it straight. He takes off my shirt.

"We'll see what your friends think of this!" I hear him say and get a glimpse of a camera being pointed in my direction one a stand above me.

I'm not able to keep up with my cries of pain as he whips me across the back several times. He somehow does it in perfect time and place so that each blow hurts to the max. I wonder if anyone around can hear me. I know I am bleeding.

After a horrible two or three minutes of slashes, I slip into unconsciousness.

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><p>When I wake up I am back in the chair, although mt shirt has disappeared. I see the cruel, evil man in the corner.<p>

"As I was trying to say earlier before I was RUDELY interrupted, I need your help to decide who to kill tonight, If you help me, I will give the address of my victim to the FBI." he explains. I notice the camera is up again.

"Why... Why would I help you kill someone?" I ask, not believing what I hear. I see four laptops in front of me, each spying on someone.

"Why would you help me? Well, for one, I'll release the address of where I'm going so that maybe they'll get there in time. And, if you don't, you'll regret it." he says, getting a little irritated.

"I refuse to help you!" I say, wondering what my consequences will be.

"Hey, it's your decision!" he says while grabbing a gun from a nearby table and unexpectedly shooting me in the leg. Luckily it only shaved off the side, but that didn't keep the pain from being any worse. As I double over, I hear him speak.

"Have you reconsidered you decision?"

"Yes! Yes! I have!" I manage to say. "But only as long as you give them the address."

"Fine, fine, whatever. Just pick!" he says, very angry now.

"Umm... far left corner." I say, seeing that there's two people in the room. Although it's hard to see considering all of the pain shooting through me.

"Alright. Good choice." he says, sounding scarily pleased. He then spins around, recites the address to the camera and turns it off before running out of the door.

I sit here, trying to cope with the pain. I wonder if anyone will come. It's dark now, but there is a fire burning over to the side that keeps it well lit.

I look over to the laptop I chose and see something. Or _someone _I should say. I see that there is only one person in the room now. It is a woman.

I watch now as my captor, dressed in black, runs in from nowhere, cuts the throat of the woman, and runs off again. It is a horrible sight, and I see a man, probably the husband, rush toward her, while calling someone on the phone. I hear him frantically yelling at the police now. I watch as the police come and investigate the scene.

A minute or two later my team arrives.

They look around an investigate. I then see Hotch walk over to the camera that I'm viewing from. He starts talking to me.

"Reid, if your listening, I want you to know that none of this is your fault. I'm sorry for what has happened, and we are going to find you soon. Just hang in there."

I get a little hopeful, but just a little. I believe I will eventually get out, I just don't know when. I hope it's soon.

After about 30 minutes, everything is wrapped up. There is no sign of the man who has taken me and killed six others now. I need to be careful. I could become number seven.

That thought scares me. I need not to think that. It's not going to help me.

I then start to think what it would be like without me. I wonder what would happen to my mother.

When I was 18 I moved her to a specialty hospital here in Las Vegas. I regret it all the time, but wonder how she would have been if I didn't. That was only about 5 years ago. I write to her everyday to make up for not visiting her. I wonder how she is. I din't get to write to her today, of coarse. I hope someone has told her. But at the same time I don't. I don't want her to worry, but at the same time, if no one tells her she probably still will. If she's lucid enough that is.

I think about how my team will be. I'm not trying to brag or anything, but I do help solve many cases, and my intelligence helps make a profile sometimes, or find what were looking over.

If I were to... pass, in the next few days, or days, I would at least know I ha a good enough life. I have worked for the FBI for four years. That is something many people can't say. Also, many others can't say they have an IQ of 187, can read 20,000 words a minute, or have an eidetic memory.

I am feeling very tired now. I hope I can get some sleep before that guy some back. Hopefully he'll let me sleep naturally when he comes back. I'll just have to wait an see.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Is it OOC? Probably.**_

_**Are you going to review negatively? Considering the way the CriMin fandom responds to my work usually, probably.**_

_**Would I love you forever if you reviewed, whether it be in praise or *CONSTRUCTIVE* criticism? ABSOLUTELY.**_

_**I'll post soon enough. This is nine (9) pages out of 38 so far, so you can imagine how long it is.**_

_**I take my last final tomorrow (yay) so I should get time to type. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Here we go! Told ya I'd be back soon! I finished all of my finals and while I'll still have some regular school work, I have a month off from college classes. Sorry for any mistakes I make, btw. I try to catch them but my brain wires get crossed sometimes (along with my fingers). Enjoy!**_

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><p>The sound of arguing wakes me up. I am very sore, but feeling a little better. Considering how I feel and the sun, I'm guessing it's 9 AM the next morning. Wow. I slept an okay, not solid, waking up every few hours, 12 hours. The longest I've slept in a LONG time.<p>

The yelling is back. It's right outside the door of this... well, I never bothered to look before, but I think it's a simple little two room log cabin house. And it's not even barely two rooms. Just a little wall divider on both sides.

Anyway, the yelling is stronger now. I can tell it is between a woman and the man who took me, approx. 35 hours ago. I hear the man take over, a sharp, sudden scream, and a thud.

A few minutes later, I hear scraping against the cabin. Probably someone digging. Probably my captor digging a grave. Luckily, or hopefully, but sadly most likely for the lady outside the door.

After 30 minutes or so, he comes back inside. The first time I know of since last night. He looks at me when he walks in.

"Did you sleep good?" he says with an evil smile.

"Actually, it wasn't that bad. I slept 12 hours or so. I might have been awakened several times, but that doesn't matter." I say. I don't want to make him mad, but I enjoy irritating him a little.

"Well, good. You'll need your energy today. We're moving, and your going to help me move some equipment. And you will not try anything, or I will kill you on the spot."

"But, my leg... It's kinda hard for me to do anything that doesn't require sitting." I say, wondering if he'll still make me "help" him.

"Aww... SUCK IT UP! It's just a stupid shot on the side of your leg. Anyway, a little pain should toughen you up a bit." he says.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask.

"Well, first you can go over there and start putting those laptops in my trunk. Open the passenger and put them on the floor in the backseat. Do this and only this and nothing will happen. For now, at least." he said, undoing the ties over my wrists. "remember, no funny business."

I sit there a moment. Does he really want me to do this stuff? Of coarse he does. He isn't in much of a hurry, and he would like to see me in pain from what he caused.

"Get up! Get to work!" he says. He reaches for something.

If I hadn't been shot and whipped, I would've grabbed my gun off the small table between the criminal and I and shot _him _right away. But, I couldn't. So even though it was very painful, I did my best to stand up. First time I failed. Second time, almost there. Third time's the charm... kind of.

Under watchful eyes, keeping my back straight, I limp over to the other "room" and grabbed one of the computers. Everything has been disconnected, so I didn't have to deal with wires.

Doing my best, I take each one out to the truck. I fall several times, but don't let the laptops touch the floor. That was the last thing I needed.

I realized that I was being recorded again at one point or another. Every painful step. Every horrible fall.

Criminal's like to record themselves killing their victim, so that later on they can go back and "relive" it. They do the same things when torturing. I realize this is why he keeps taping. Either that, or his is broadcasting me to my team again. I don't know which one I prefer.

When I'm finished, I don't know what to do. I decide to speak up.

"I finished. That do you "need" me to do now?" I say. I feel like I'm going to fall over. My back is on fire and my leg is about to go out.

"Hmm... That's good for now. We need to get on the road.. Get over here!" he says.

Reluctantly, I limp over to him. He tells me to put out my wrists, which he then ties up again, except tighter. Then he turns the camera off.

I remember him stuffing me on the other side of the laptops in the back, packing a few final things, then, much to my pleading him not to, injecting something in my arm. I then fall asleep.

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><p>Next thing I know, I'm in a chair once again. But, this time, we're in what looks like a motel room. The kind where everything is in one main room besides the bathroom.<p>

There is only a small source of orange light, coming from the window. Probably the motel's sign. I see though, that the laptops are set up again. Only difference is that on the screen I picked... yesterday(?), instead of the victim and the other person, it is on my team back in Las Vegas. I wonder if they are currently working to find me, and capturing our UnSub.

I fall back asleep after watching me team. The creep who took me probably thinks it's some kin of torture. Honestly, it is. Knowing you can see them, but they can't see you. Not being there, working on a case. Not having any real contact.

I wake up around 10 AM later that morning.

By the time the UnSub walks in I am ready to talk to him. I only hope I will get some answers and not get hurt for asking.

"Who are you? Where am I?" I demand.

"Who am I? Wow, Spencer. I thought that begin a genius and in the FBI, you would at least know who I am. Oh well, I guess that I was wrong. Since you don't already know. I'm not going to give away much. Call me Paul, if you must." he says.

"Okay, Paul." I say, "Where are we?"

"If I told you, then where would the fun of you trying to figure it our be? Alright, I'll give you a hint. Let's see... George W. Bush is from here. Yee haw!" he says, laughing. I wonder if he is laughing from his "joke" or where we are.

"Texas? We're in Texas? But, we were just in Las Vegas, Nevada! How could we be here so fast? It's only been a few hours... I think." I say, becoming confused.

"Not sure Spencer? I thought Dr. Reid knew everything. I thought the genius boy would at least know what day it is." Paul says. The psycho seems very amused.

"To get to Texas from Nevada via car takes an average of 15 hours, not including any stops. I woke up last night, after we got here. If you took me last Tuesday night, then, today should be... Saturday? Or Sunday? Please tell me!" I say, feeling very lost.

Laughing, Paul says, "Doesn't feel good to have no clue what day it is, or to even be sure where you are, does it?"

I sit there awhile. I don't know what to say.

"Answer me!" he yells.

"No, it doesn't. What do you want me fir? I helped you pick that girl you killed, I packed your stuff. Why are you still keeping me?" I ask.

I see him set up the camera again. On the corner screen, I see my team all rush over to a screen. They must be looking at us.

"Spencer, I'm still keeping you because you're not done helping me. DO you know the specific places that you can stab, but without it seriously hurting you? Well, on the inside at least. There's lots of pain on the outside, just not a lot of damage inside... We'', do you?"

"Of coarse I do. But if your looking for an answer from me, your not going to get it, Paul." I made sure to sat the name he told me. Maybe my team can somehow find something from it.

"Oh, I don't need an answer. I already know. I just wanted to know if you knew. Let's see."

Paul reaches for a knife and walks toward me. The camera is still on, but I can no longer see my team.

Before I know it, he walks over and stabs me in the most well known place. The shoulder.

There are technically no "safe" places to be stabbed. But, there are a few places that won't puncture any organs, or hit any major blood vessels. Unfortunately, it doesn't make it feel any better.

He keeps the blade in while my scream starts to lose air. When he takes it out, I'm bleeding again, but not too bad.

All I really know after that is that I'm in a great deal of pain, and that there are people on the other side of the camera watching me. And not just anyone, but my team. My other family.

I feel kind of embarrassed, them seeing this. Seeing how weak and defenseless I am. I try to think of something to say to give them a hint of where we are.

I get an idea. It's very risky, but it could work, as long as I keep the act up. I begin by pretending to have a sudden sneeze attack.

"Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!" I sneeze. It makes my whole body hurt but it should be worth it.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa, what's the matter with you?" he says, sounding a little worried.

"What's with ME?! Achoo!" I manage. "First you take me captive, whip my back... shoot me! Achoo! Make me PACK YOUR STUFF!" It's hard for me to keep it up with the pain I'm causing to myself. "Achoo! Then you stab me! Achoo! And on top of it, you take me to Texas, the worst possible place! Texas has so many... Achoo!... allergens! Achoo!" I fake.

"Oh, I didn't know! Is there anything I can do? I-" he runs off, noticing the camera and my sudden stop of sneezing.

"You fooled me! You aren't allergic! And you revealed where we are! You're going to pay!" he screams.

All of a sudden, he runs over and starts beating me. If a hurt leg, back, and shoulder isn't enough, I now am going to be bruised and sore all over. He hits me in the stomach and I lose my breath. I realize I'm starting to slip into unconsciousness.

Out of nowhere, the door bursts open, and a woman comes in.

"Paul, what are you doing? You promised you wouldn't hurt the kid anymore!" said the unknown lady. I see her turn off the camera before everything falls black.

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><p><strong><em>AN: DUHN DUHN DHUN!The amount of whump in this seems pretty unrealistic, but it's fanfiction so it doesn't have to be realistic. (lol) Plus, most TV shows really aren't that realistic, they just appear that way. (If you know what I mean...?)_**

**_I'm doing my best to try and edit this as I go as there are actually several plot holes and inconsistencies (and very bad grammar) from when I originally wrote this while trying to stay along the same plot line. _**


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